Irish lad living in Boston

After a few days of rest, it was time to find a job. I told my aunt my plans over a bite to eat. I felt like we were finally bonding so I suggested we watch a film together. Deliverance wasn’t her kind of film. With the film finished and our friendship ruined I went off to bed, leaving my aunt to figure out what the man had done to the other man in the forest.

Bright and early the next morning, I took the train into the city. I spied a gorgeous, blue-eyed, blonde who joked around with her ugly, selfish boyfriend. To pass the time, I pictured myself in various scenarios featuring her and her boyfriend. They usually followed the same pattern. The boyfriend steps out of line and I warn him not to do it again. He laughs and punches his girlfriend in the face.

I throw my cigarette on the ground and stub it out with my snake skinned boots.Walking slowly over to him I say something cool like “Hey garbage… Its time to take out the thrash” and throw him off the train, killing him instantly. Quickly after her boyfriend’s death, the blonde throws herself at me for minutes on end, causing contagious orgasms to spread throughout the train.

In between my violent sexual fantasies, I figured that my best chance of getting a job was in the Irish bars. After 12 Irish bars and no luck, I went to a bar that my aunt had worked in during the bronze age. I strolled up to the old barman, told him a bit about myself and he happened to know my aunt. He said he had sex with her numerous times and that the job was mine. Excellent.

To celebrate, I had another pint… another four pints. After they had settled, I ordered a pint of water to make sure I was feeling fresh for the journey home. Fueled by my success, I hopped back on the subway and traveled down the line to do a bit of sight-seeing. With too much time to think on the subway, the pints and the water had caught up with me. My bladder was now in control.

My brain pleaded with my bladder not to empty its cargo. My evil bladder tried to convince my brain that no one would even notice. That bladdery bastard knew full well that I was armed with apocalyptic quantities of piss, that would sink the train in a matter of seconds. At the next stop, I rushed out of the train in search of a toilet or a bin or a pram. I ran up the stairs, 14 steps at a time and burst out through the doors into the streets. Frantically running about I spotted a Burger King and stumbled with my knotted legs across the street. I raced through the doors to the counter and asked for a key to the bathroom. The burger slave, basking in my agony, pointed to the sign that read Bathrooms for paying customers only.

My hand scurried around in my pocket to find some money. I threw the money on the counter and ordered 3 hamburgers (I thought this number of burgers covered the cost of letting me piss in the toilet). He closed up his till, laughed and pointed me to the next counter. He would pay for his insolence. I arrived at the counter, no longer a man, but a hunchback with a dripping tap in his pants.

Barely able to speak, I ordered the appropriate amount of burgers and asked for the key. My bladder had entered the launch codes as I waddled towards the bathroom. There was no turning back now. The door had just shut behind me when I released… THE KRAKEN. It was hungry for revenge, beyond my control. Nothing escaped its fury. The toilet paper! The sink! The handbag some woman had left behind her! Everything!

It was now time to exact revenge on the burger slave… waiting just outside the door…